


Ghosts of Rhode Island

by Brennah_K



Category: NCIS
Genre: DADT Repeal, Hate Crimes, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Rape/Non-con References, Tony Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:50:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brennah_K/pseuds/Brennah_K
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a former-fellow cadet from Rhode Island Academy is brought in on a murder investigation, he's only too happy to bargain for his own freedom with secrets that Tony's been trying to hide for most of his life, revealing a past encounter between Tony and their new director that Tony hadn't remembered and Director Vance had never forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Au with time line shifted to put Tony in RI Academy in 1998.

“Well, fuck, I can't believe it's my lucky day!” A rough, almost caustic voice, commented with a laugh, right as Balboa's second, Keith Eckridge, pulled a handcuffed-sailor in mechanic's green past Tony's desk. 

The sailor didn't look all that lucky in Tony's opinion, even though he was wearing a familiar, predatorily-smug smile as Eckridge tried to pull him past. 

The man planted his feet and stood his ground. Pushing his seat back to stand and help Eckridge move the man along, Tony wasn't prepared when the man's next words took his feet out from under him. 

“If it isn't Cadet Shepard...” Tony didn't hear the rest of the man's comment. 

The glancing blow he took, when his temple hit the corner of his computer tower, had knocked him as deeply into a shocked daze as the man's words had. 

By the time his boss had jumped up from his desk and come to a crouch beside him, Tony had managed to get himself sat up against the cubicle's divider, asking Gibbs the same question that his boss was just asking him: “What the hell just happened?” 

The sailor's voice answered their question, stopping Tony's heart as recognition set in, “Old habits die hard, eh Shepard?”

Tony's stomach roiled, and he glanced around desperately for his trashcan, hoping he could reach it before his stomach lurched again. 

“Get him outta here,” Gibbs barked causing Tony to jerk and startle in response. 

“Hey. Easy.” Gibbs bark had lightened to a gentle caution, but Tony was in no state to hear the difference. 

His hands were shaking too badly to even pull the trashcan to him, so he barely missed the can as his stomach rejected both the coffee he'd finished twenty minutes earlier and the oatmeal he'd eaten that morning. Only his boss's quick thinking kept the carpet clean. 

“Water.” Gibbs ordered, sending McGee running back down the direction of the hall to the break room.

Soon after, the older man barked “Back to work!” at the crowd of curious coworkers that he sent flocking back to their desks. 

Several minutes passed, with Gibbs trying to say something over the loud, hurricane-like roar of Tony's blood pressure in his ears, but Tony couldn't shake himself out of the shock, of hearing that voice, and that nickname... couldn't pull himself back to the bull pen. 

Instead, despite the fact he could clearly see Ziva leaning over his desk to study him with worried brown eyes, and Tim leaning in to hand Gibbs the coffee mug he'd emptied earlier...

Tony could only feel the night-chilled chain-link fencing press into his cheek and nose as his face was pushed into it. 

The aged metal of its links bit into his curled fingers as he froze, waiting for the bite of rope around his wrists. 

That was always the hardest part, holding still while Cadet Sergeant Markson tied him to the fence – barking in his ear what would happen if Tony fought him. 

Tony refused to shut his eyes, knowing if he did, he'd be completely back there.

Watching Gibbs instead, trying to read what his boss was saying to Ziva from the shape of his moving lips, he had to stop when Gibbs turned to look over his shoulder at Supervisory Agent Balboa. The man was gesturing at his boss with an ominous frown. Tony knew that somewhere much closer to the surface of his thoughts, he would probably be terribly disturbed by what the frown meant, if he could have risen out of his almost desperate urge to huddle in the corner, making himself as small as possible. 

He felt far too close to drowning under unwanted ghosts of sensation: sensations that he knew weren't real and present, but that he could feel all the same. 

Gibbs was glancing back at him now, and Tony knew that at least part of what he and Balboa were saying had to be about him. A glint in Gibb's eyes told Tony that the words he was mouthing at McGee and Ziva were orders, and their rapid nods of agreement was enough to let their boss stand up from his crouch and walk head over toward Balboa. 

He had tried to wave his boss's concern off, but when Gibbs had barely reached the end of his own desk, Tony's breathing broke for a second, with an unintelligible sound that momentarily stopped Gibbs in his tracks, glancing back at him with an unmistakeable look of indecision in his eyes.

McGee swung around the edge of the desk, gesturing in a way that Tony interpreted as “We've got it, Boss,” and Gibbs continued over to join Balboa. 

Pushing the desk with his hip, McGee made enough room for Ziva to scoot in beside them, and after a second, they were both catching Tony under his arms and pulling him up to drop an arm over each of their shoulders. Tony tried to help them support his weight, but his legs were weak and wobbly under him and Markson's comment,“Old habits die hard, eh Shepard?”, was echoing in his ears.

“What would you do to keep them from finding out?” Cadet Sergeant Markson whispered in his ear.

“Hunh, SHEPARD? What would you give me not to tell them?” With his wrists tied Markson was free to search his pockets and keep anything he found.

“You know what they'll do to you if they find out.” The remembered whisper brought some perspective with it, and Tony suddenly realized what Balboa's frown had meant, and Ziva cursed in his ear as she fought to catch his weight when Tony's legs went weak again.


	2. Past Eclipsing Present

Pushing the desk with his hip, McGee made enough room for Ziva to scoot in beside them, and after a second, they were both catching Tony under his arms and pulling him up to drop an arm over each of their shoulders.

Tony tried to help them support his weight, but his legs were weak and wobbly under him and Markson's comment,“Old habits die hard, eh Shepard?” was echoing in his ear.

“What would you do to keep them from finding out?” Markson tone became higher excited whisper that sometimes still woke him in the early hours of the morning, instead of the alcohol and smoking-aged voice of the man that had just been drug away.

“Hunh, SHEPARD? What would you give me not to tell them?”

As the whispers persisted, without Gibbs presence - demanding his attention and obedience - to ground him ... Tony's grasp on the present weakened and fell away, beneath an evening chill that he felt across his stomach and the cut of metal into his fingers as they spasmodically clenched and unclenched causing the chain link fence to rattle beneath them.

“Come on. Shepard, you know what they'll do to you if they find out. Say it, tell me what you'll give me to keep them from finding out.”

...

"Say it... Shepard, Say it!"

"Anything...," he gasped, "anything, ... just not... please... it hurts."

“What? You think you can tell me no?” Cadet Sergeant Markson demanded, pushing him roughly into the fence. "I think you've forgotten what happens to freaks like you when people find out."

"No...no... I haven't but..." Tony plead.

"Prove it, then, tell me, what're they gonna do to you if they find out? What'll they do, if I went back and got a bunch of my bunkmates out here…right now... What do you think they'll do? What's gonna happen to you, if I spill your dirty little secret? Hunh? Tell me..." Markson's voice demanded shaking him almost as violently as he hand pushing his back of his head and forcing his face into the fencing links.

Finally, knowing that he was beyond escape… beyond bargaining and that Markson wasn't likely to show him any more mercy than he ever had before, Tony answered, “String … string me up... Just like him...”

"That's right… Just exactly what they'd do… if I told them. So it seems to me, you wanna give me pretty much anything I ask for, dontcha?"

"Y-ye-s," Tony stammered.

"I didn't hear you!" Markson taunted, jerking his head back then pushing his face back into the cuttingly cold chain links.

"Yes." Tony.

"Yes, what? Come on, Shepard. That's not how we do it here. I said, you're gonna give me anything I want, aren't you?"

"Yes, Sir, Cadet Sergeant, Sir."

“That better. I knew you were smart enough to figure it out... know how much you want to keep me happy.” Markson's voice trailed off, as his hands slid down Tony's back to where his shirt tail was tucked into the back of his slacks. Tony's legs went weak again with the feel of his shirt being rucked up, and his barely unbuckled belt pulling down - dragging the slacks down over his hips.

Ziva's startled curse in his ear, followed by McGee's exclamation, “I've got him.” momentarily cut across the whispers, and Tony clung to the ghostly feeling of their tight supportive holds around his waist, barely keeping him up. Their grips... so much less threatening and invasive than Marksons, as he ordered, “Abby's lab” in desperation. Abby's exuberance and over-loud music were what he needed... life lines to drag him back until Gibbs came down.

Ziva stared at him in shock, only belatedly stepping into the elevator car when the doors were about to close on her. On the other side of Tony, McGee ordered, "Take it easy, Tony, we'll be there in a minute," and punched the button for the labs.

ブレンキン

“Balboa?!?” Gibbs demanded, as soon as he reached the man. “I want to know everything you know on your suspect and what his connection is to Tony!”

“That's the problem, Gibbs. We have CM1 Markinson dead to rights on at least two counts of assault, and Dietrich's getting the statement from another potential vic, but Markson's sitting in there as smug as you please trying to negotiate a deal with Vance in exchange for information he has on Tony.”

“Vance, why's he involved in this?”

“Sorry, Gibbs, but I had to call him when Markson started up. He's making it sound like's got something ugly DiNozzo, and Tony's reaction, just on seeing the man, isn't helping his case.”

“Tony's not a case!” Gibbs bit out, brushing by Balboa, toward the interrogation rooms.

“I hope not, but Gibbs,” Balboa grabbed his arm holding him in place for a second, “Markson seems to think he can get full immunity...”

Gibbs nodded his understanding and continued down the hall. When he reached the interrogation room, however, instead of going in, he turned and entered the observation room, deciding that he wouldn't help Tony by barging in, with probability of Vance going on the defensive from their far too frequent 'pissing matches' pretty high.

And, although he didn't believe that there was a chance in hell that the man had the kind of dirt on Tony that the bastard seemed to think he had, Tony's reaction had been disturbing to say the least. If there was something to worry about, by waiting in the observation room, Gibbs would still be able to hear the man's statement, while still having the freedom to dial Ducky and make sure that his second was in safe hands or out of the building as needed until the situation could be straightened.

Giving Gibbs a knowing glance, Balboa commented, “Probably a good idea,” before heading into the interrogation room, himself, and handing off a file, that Gibbs realized Vance must have sent him to get. He made a mental note to thank Santori later for delaying to fill Gibbs in on the interrogation, certain that Vance wouldn't have made the suggestion.

To Gibbs disgust and frustration, Vance already appeared to be in the middle of agreeing to give Markson immunity for the dirt on Tony, pushing the requisite forms across the table for Markson to sign.

“Signing this will get me in the clear?” Markson double checked, and Gibbs cursed their new director under his breath for being so ready to sell Tony down the river on the unverified word of a suspect.

“Yes, Petty officer, you have your guarantee of immunity, for the assaults, if the information you have on Special Agent DiNozzo is actionable.”

“Oh, it's actionable, all right, unless you think it's a good thing to have a sniveling coward in your ranks – so corrupt that he'd sell his body at the drop of a hat to keep his secrets. ” Markson declared with a smirk, and Gibbs shook his head wondering if the man knew Tony at all.

One thing Tony was not – was a coward, and while the younger man could and would lie at the drop of a hat to fabricate some fantasy conquest of a probably non-existent bimbo, the agent he knew had never failed to accept the responsibility and blame for his own actions and mistakes.

If anything, Gibbs sometimes felt that Tony took more than his share of responsibility, protecting Tim and Ziva from well-deserved chewing outs, when he appeared to think Gibbs temper was too hot to subject them to; more often than not, he was probably right.

“I see.” Vance flipped a page in the file back and forth, before continuing, “And you're sure of this, I suppose?”

“Absolutely.” Markson answered smugly.

"If it as sensitive as you are suggesting that DiNozzo would do anything to protect it, may I ask how you came to know it?" Vance pressed, mildly.

“We went to Rhode Island Academy together, '96 – '98.” Markson supplied as if that was enough to support any type of claim. “... And he told me.” Markson threw in as if realizing it himself.

Doing the mental math, Gibbs had to stare at Markson, not quite astonished, but close; surely, the man couldn't think that a fairly innocent admission made by a …thirteen... he paused and re-checked his math... but no, DiNozzo would have been a thirteen-year-old. How could Markson think anything, outside of murder, would possibly be held against the adult officer almost twenty years later... for the statue of limitations not to have run out, unless there were something more insidious to it... like the torture or assault on a younger classmate but both of those options were so far out of DiNozzo's character that Gibbs couldn't credit it.

From Balboa's skeptical expression, Gibbs was pretty certain the other team lead was thinking the same thing, as well.

“What was the nature of this admission, if you don't mind me asking?” Vance continued to question.

“DiNozzo's a card-carrying queer!” Markson practically crowed.

Gibbs was struck by both the ludicrous claim and the machinist's idiotic certainty that it would be enough to get immunity. The petty officer's next words, though, caught him off guard with their casual malice, and almost made Gibbs forget his decision not to barge in:

"An knowing him, you can bet he's paying someone a pretty penny to keep it quiet if you haven't found it out before now. The little queer will do almost anything to keep it a secret, except do the right thing and eat a bullet."

"I see," Vance commented, neutrally, before continuing, "and you're certain of this?"...still clearly on a fishing expedition.

Whatever Vance might be thinking, the NCIS was a civilian agency, not a military one, and the DADT restrictions definitely did not apply.

"Yeah."

"So, you're saying that he told you he was gay; when according to your claim, it's a secret he would sell himself to protect. You must have been very close for him, for him to share a secret like that."

"What?!?" Markson sat back an expression of shock and disgust on his face as the director continued.

“How long were you 'involved' with Agent DiNozzo? If you don't mind me asking."

"Wait, what?!? No, it wasn't like that…"

"Like what?"

"The way you're saying involved… like we were together or something… God, that's a disgusting thought. DiNozzo's the queer, not me."

"Is that what, DiNozzo would say, if I brought him in here and asked him? That you were never together?"

"I don't give a fuck what that little fag says; I'm telling you it wasn't like that... what we did… what he did to get us to keep his secret was… it was … a payoff … that's all... not the type of thing you're talking about."

"When you say we? Who exactly do you mean?"

Markson sat back, staring at Vance for several seconds with open hostility before he finally shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

"I see," Vance answered coldly, before closing the file, "I'm sorry to tell you this, Markson, but as nothing you have discussed today constitutes an actionable charge against Agent DiNozzo, the immunity agreement is null and void. "

"Hey, wait a minute, you said…"

"I said that but your offer of immunity was contingent on your ability to offer an actionable charge against Agent DiNozzo. Nothing that you have shared fits that criteria: NCIS does not discriminate against Agents on the basis of their gender identification or orientation, nor an -at best- consensual sexual encounter that he had as a minor even if it was with a partner of the same sex... but I suspect that we aren't actually talking about a consensual encounter or encounters... are we?"

"I want to talk to my lawyer!" Markson shouted throwing himself out his chair and halfway across the table to grab the signed agreement as if having possession of it would force them to hold to it.

Throughout his outburst, Vance sat coolly at the table, chewing the toothpick, as Balboa jumped up and jerked the man back.

"I'm sure you do," Vance agreed, then turned to Balboa. "Agent, escort him to the holding cell."

"Yes, Sir." Balboa grunted, pulling Markson beside him.

Just as they reached the door, Vance glanced up at the mirror separating the observation room and the interrogation room, very nearly looking exactly where his gaze would meet Gibbs if there were only clear glass between, and ordered, "And Agent, collect DiNozzo on your way back up. Tell him I'd like to speak to him."

"In you're office, Sir?" Balboa questioned with a commiserating glance to where he thought Gibbs would likely be… but about a foot off.

"No, I think here will be fine."

"Yes, Sir." Balboa grunted again as the petty officer pulled, half-shouting, "Hey, you said it wasn't actionable." In complaint.

"Actually, I said it wasn't actionable against DiNozzo, I said nothing about whether it could be used against you." There was a thinly veiled predatory edge underlying Vance's words that man back, with a curse, before Vance turned his gaze back to the mirror.

The challenge in Vance's eyes as he stared at the spot in the mirror exactly in front of Gibbs, practically shouted at Gibbs that the man had 'taken the gloves off' and the time for their so-called 'pitching matches' was over. Whatever Vance was going to do, if Gibbs interfered, he would be jeopardizing both his own and Tony's careers when he did.


End file.
